The End of a Hero
by PhantomShard
Summary: Even Shepard could not come back to life unscarred. Rated M for heavy themes.


(A/N) Hi! this is my first story here on FF. It came from an idea I had playing through as my Infiltrator turned Vanguard. What sort of psychological impact would everything my Shepard went through, including suddenly having biotic powers, have? obviously I am not a psychologist, But this is my take on what it would be like. It came out a bit dark for my tastes, so I think I might also write a happier counterpart to this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and take time to review!

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Wrong. That's what he was. an Abomination. Maybe it wasn't as overt as a Cerberus Trooper, or a Reaper Husk, but he was twisted, just the same.

_When you die, you are supposed to stay dead._

But he didn't stay dead. He was brought back, twisted, Infected, filled with machines, crafted by hands with ulterior motives. Even though they had faded now, every time he looked in the mirror, he remembered the glowing orange scars cutting across his body, making him look like some sort of macabre patchwork thing. Then there were his eyes. They were no longer the blue he remembered, just a few shades too pale. Nothing anyone else would notice. Then, there was the horrible red glint that he saw occasionally. Just enough to remind him.

_Eyes didn't survive vacuums very well._

Then, there was his ability's. He was stronger, faster, smarter, really all you would expect from someone full of machinery. But his Biotics were the truly glaring upgrade he had gotten.

He had always had Biotic potential. Even as a kid, he could employ a powerful Throw. It was his only way to defend himself as a orphan in the slums of earth. Then, in his military career, he used the ability sparingly. Without the Biotic Amps that could only be implanted in a child, it couldn't be developed more than he had. Whenever he did use it, he was beset by tearing migraines and nosebleeds.

Then, when he arose from death, he felt strange power running along his spine, coinciding with the horrifying cold feeling of machinery in every part of his body. The first time he was desperate enough to use his Throw again, he killed a entire squad of Krogan, tore out a huge reinforced bulkhead, and would have died if it wasn't for Omegas atmospheric shields.

Soon he had retrained himself from a Infiltrator, always away and behind, with crippling Tech attacks and sniper rounds, to a Vanguard, a terrifying Biotic specter of death, ripping through the battlefield with dual Locust SMGs.

He was just that much more dangerous, but all it did was serve to remind him that he was something less than human now.  
Doubts about his existence, only enhanced by the cold, metallic, almost pain that his body was in, always nibbled at his mind. He was barely hanging onto his sanity.

Then, he found her. Wild, covered in ink, head shaved bald, she gave him a reason to stay. Because, beneath that acerbic shell she put up, he could see. See years of hurt and betrayal, lies and deceit. By no means was she a nice person, even underneath her shell. Life wasn't a fantasy after all. but, her bluntness, her lack of care in others opinions in the midst of a crew of terrorists and liars, refreshed him.

He would always have is best friend to help him, but Jack? she was something special. she gave him a reason to live. Especially after Pragia, when she began to open up to him. And then, before the final assault on the Collectors. That night was beautiful. They didn't have sex. No, they were both too broken for that, and might always be. but, they consoled each other with their presence. It wasn't perfect, a choir of angels didn't sing when they pressed their lips together, but it was what they both desperately needed.

After he had been released from a Alliance prison, they met as often as possible. Her and Garrus were the only ones he could trust anymore. The Alliance didn't trust him, Cerberus hunted him, The Council was useless.

During the final assault on Cerberus headquarters, he met her. He hadn't heard from her for several weeks, but that was normal on the front lines of a war. But there she was, in Cerberus colours, face cracked, glowing cold blue, robbed of her life. He'd begged, pleaded, used all his considerable diplomatic skill to get her to see reason, but the implacable force of Cerberus implants won out in the end.

It was a fierce battle, two augmented Biotic titans clashing in a wave of blue fire. In the end, a round from Garrus' rifle broke through her defense, and pierced her in the leg. she knelt before him, no emotion in those glowing husk eyes, and he placed a bullet in her heart. as she fell back, the cold blue drained from her eyes, revealing their old deep brown depths, as she said her final words. 'Thanks Shepard. I knew you'd never let those fucks have me. I love ya, and i always will, so go give 'em hell.' With that, She faded.

He left her body. It wouldn't matter to her what happened to a piece of meat. he had a mission to finish.

And finish it he did. A wave of red fire swept across the galaxy, annihilating all the machines that were the cause of his, and the galaxy's, suffering. and yet, despite the damage done to his own machine parts, he somehow survived. They had to replace even more of his body, and now the cold metal was constantly visible, in the shape of a left arm. just one more reminder of his twisted body.

A month after the fact, when the races of the galaxy were starting to put the pieces back together, he wasn't needed anymore.

It was Garrus that found his body, slumped over on his desk, his signature Locust in one hand, a picture of Her in another. She was scowling in it, But to him, she was as beautiful as ever. There was a scrawled note, stating he had no reason to continue on anymore, and that the cold machine feeling was ever encroaching on his body. He apologized to all his friends, making sure to promise to meet them in the bar when they made it there. In the end, he said, He should have died three years ago. He got to come back and do a great deal of good, but now he was simply balancing the scales. After all,

_When you die, you are supposed to stay dead._


End file.
